The voices still echoed in my mind as I ran toward the sound of the whirring machine. My heart pounded in my chest, uncertain of my fate. The only thing keeping me moving was my ability to suppress my fear and remain composed. The loud shouts that woke me up every morning fueled my desperation, making me run even faster.
Meanwhile, the search for the missing boys continued in the surrounding areas.
Two thugs stumbled upon a boy lying unconscious near the washroom, the very place where the eye-removal operations were taking place.
One of them muttered nervously, "The boss ordered us to keep an eye on all the boys. No one should escape. If he finds out this kid got out, we're finished."
"You idiot, we'll be finished anyway if we don't figure out who this boy is. Stop talking and check on him," snapped the other thug.
They rushed to the unconscious boy, who lay in a pool of blood, and began searching for clues.
"Oh crap. What the hell happened here?" The first thug's voice wavered with fear. "Forget our jobs—if the boss finds out, we might lose our lives! Each boy is an asset to the operation. Losing one means losing a lot of money."
"Stop panicking and look for the number badge. Every boy on this black island has one," the second thug ordered.
The first thug searched frantically through the boy's clothes but found nothing. No matter how hard they looked, there was no badge. Suddenly, the thug's expression changed, his face twisting in confusion.
"What's wrong? Why are you looking like that?" the other thug asked.
"No matter how hard I try, I can't find his badge. Maybe he hid it and tried to escape." The first thug's voice was tense. Then, a realization struck him. "Wait a minute…"
"What now? Why are you shouting?" the second thug asked impatiently.
"Look at his clothes! They're not the ones we gave him. Every boy here wears a uniform, right? But he's wearing colorful jeans. Where did he even get these?"
"Maybe he's one of the new ones. He hasn't been assigned a badge yet," the second thug reasoned. "That makes him even more important to the boss."
The first thug bent down, looking closely at the boy's face. It was covered in blood. Panic rising, he rushed into the nearby washroom.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" the second thug called out, confused.
Moments later, the first thug returned with a bucket of water and poured it over the boy's face. As the blood washed away, the boy's features became visible. Both thugs gasped, their expressions shifting from confusion to terror.
"Oh my God," the first thug whispered. "Isn't this the new boy? The boss's son? It seems that somebody has plucked his eyeballs as well" His voice cracked as he noticed the deep knife wounds on the boy's chest, and two holes on the boy's eye sockets
"We don't have time to waste," the second thug said urgently. "He's still breathing, but if we don't get him medical help soon, he won't make it."
"Let's take him to the west side godown," the first thug decided.
They carefully lifted the boy, supporting him between them as they carried him along the cement walkway. Blood dripped steadily from his wounds.
"Do you think the doctor our boss brought is good enough to operate on him, or should we get a specialist?" the first thug asked nervously.
"Is this really the time for that question? Just shut up and move faster!" the second thug snapped.
As they walked, the unconscious boy let out a faint moan.
"Three… three…" he whispered weakly.
"What does he mean by three? Is he asking for three more people? These rich brats never give up. Even now, they think they can bargain for their lives," the first thug scoffed.
"Shut up, you fool..He's probably talking about something important," the second thug said sharply.
Despite their attempts to get more information, the boy didn't respond. They continued toward the godown when another groan caught their attention.
"Wait. Did you hear that?" the first thug stopped abruptly.
"There's no one in that warehouse. No one should be there. So where is that noise coming from?" the second thug wondered aloud.
"I have a bad feeling about this," the first thug muttered. "Let's check it out."
Together, they turned toward the dark warehouse.
*****
In a dimly lit room, the boss paced furiously.
"There are so many of you, and yet no one can find my son?" he roared, glaring at the gang members before him. "If you don't bring him back today, you will all remain on this island—permanently."
"Boss," Johnny, the gang leader, stepped forward cautiously. "Even though I warned him not to go near the operation site, the little boss didn't listen. Now, both he and the doctor are missing. I fear something has happened to them."
The boss clenched his jaw. "Johnny, I made you the leader here, but I never expected such incompetence from you. Find my son, at any cost."
Just then, two thugs burst into the room, carrying the wounded boy.
"No need, boss! We found him!" one of them shouted.
They carefully laid the boy on a table. The boss's face twisted in rage when he saw his son's bloodied body. Without hesitation, he pulled out his revolver and fired a shot into the air.
"Who did this to my son?! What happened to his eyes," he bellowed. "I want the person responsible in front of me in two minutes! If not, I'll kill every single one of you!"
Another thug, dressed in black, ran into the room.
"Boss! I saw three boys running toward our helicopter!"
The boss's eyes narrowed. "And instead of stopping them, you came here to tell me? Moron! If even one child escapes, the world will find out about our business. Catch them. NOW!"
The thug scrambled out, gathering men to pursue the escapees.
The boss turned back to his son, watching his shallow breaths. "Find the doctor immediately," he ordered. "If my son dies, I'll have all the children's eyes gouged out, and yours too."
One of the thugs hesitated. "Boss… there's something you should know."
"Spit it out!" the boss snapped.
"We found the doctor dead in the warehouse on the east side…" the thug said hesitantly.
The boss's expression darkened. "Then my son is as good as dead." He turned to Johnny. "If he dies, at least one of you will pay for it."
"Don't worry, boss. The doctor's assistant is still alive. He has performed many operations before. Your son will survive," Johnny assured him.
"Then get on with it," the boss ordered.
Suddenly, the boy on the table moaned again.
"Three… three…" he mumbled.
"What the hell does he mean by three?" the boss demanded.
"We don't know, boss," the thugs answered uneasily.
The boss's expression shifted as realization struck him. His face lit up like a bulb.
"You fools! Don't you get it? Those three injured my son, killed the doctor, and now they're running away!" He grabbed his gun. "Hunt them down. NOW!"
"What about the operations, boss?" one thug asked hesitantly.
"The only thing that matters now is stopping those three," said the boss.
"But what about your son?" asked one of the thugs in hesitation.
"If those three escape, my empire is finished. My son can wait, Johnny will handle it. But those brats… they must not leave this island alive," the boss growled, before storming toward the helipad.
*****
As I ran, dragging the other two boys with me, a series of loud explosions erupted behind us.
I turned back and saw men with guns charging toward us.
"Who are they?!" the third boy panted in panic.
"First, shut up and come with me," I scolded, dragging the two of them toward the winged machine visible in the distance.
Behind us, shouts erupted—'He's running towards the helicopter! Catch him immediately!'